


Love Language (Somewhere Only We Know)

by K_Lionheart



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28085847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Lionheart/pseuds/K_Lionheart
Summary: "Could you just... give me a suggestion? I only live in the apartment I was assigned and haven't done much besides being there.""I've only ever been in the castle and parts of the inner wall." Historia shrugs. "I don't know this place any better than you do.""Then can we go somewhere we both know? This place is stifling."She stares at him for a moment before she rises and suddenly starts unclipping the fastening to her cloak around her shoulders. She tosses it onto the immense bedspread before looking at him and nods. "Alright, I know where we can go."___Eren has never had time to consider love outside of the care for his own friends. Fighting a war and dealing with the consequences doesn't leave much time for love. But love is a weed that grows between the cracks and the roughness, and before long, he finds it ties him to the only girl who made a difference. The worst girl in the world.Canon compliant slow burn that follows the events after chapter 70.SPOILERS FOR ANIME-ONLY FANS - Manga Spoilers/Canon Compliant with a few personal twists.
Relationships: Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Eren Yeager
Comments: 8
Kudos: 112





	Love Language (Somewhere Only We Know)

**Author's Note:**

> Mature rating is for scenes of graphic violence and some language - possible sensual/sexual implications later

The Queen is late.

Judging by the ticking clock on the mantelpiece, golden hands spiraling to sharp points over the curved numbers, she’s late by at least ten minutes now… Eren thinks. He’s still not super certain he knows how to read that thing anyway.

With a sigh, Eren paces the waiting room once more, eyes following all the of expensive items he wouldn't know what to call with growing disinterest. Another glance at the annoyingly loud clock and Eren frowns. Its barely moved. Does it even work? What was that thing Armin said about a watched clock? 

Eren turns toward one of the windows and steps closer to the sheer curtain fabric blocking the view of the mid-day sky. He had glanced at a row of gaudy yet plush looking chairs and had wondered about sitting on one when he arrived. His nose wrinkles at the thought of being caught melting into this sort of environment and keeps standing. Besides the aggravating ticking of the clock, at least it was mostly quiet... and at least the guards didn't decide to join him and make the space even more uncomfortable to be in.

Eventually, after having found nothing to do besides stand and wait, Eren grows tired of fidgeting on his feet and glances back at the ugly set of red and gold rimmed chairs. With a sigh he paces over and nudges a boot under one of the legs before tugging. The chair gives a wheeze as its feet get dragged abruptly against the matching red rug and Eren turns and sits before he has the nerve to do otherwise.

His eyes glance back toward the (is it getting louder?) ticking clock. The long hand hasn't moved much but its journey has placed it closer to where the three would usually be. Ever so slowly, Eren leans back as he waits, tapping a boot, twiddling his thumbs, picking at invisible lint on his pants. All that remained now was to study this view of the room from his new position... joy.

He begins to recount the events that led him here instead. 

Ever since it became clear to everyone that Eren would need help clarifying all the memories he was now subject to, it came by unanimous decision that Queen Historia would dedicate necessary sessions of time for him. At first, they would be done under strict, watchful guard and within the Military Police's careful supervision. Even after all this and Darius Zackley's own personal approval, they still didn't trust him.

The minutes were always counted, the contact only allowed by them touching hands (apparently some prude in the higher ranks thought it was appalling the Queen had once touched the bare skin of his back to make the memories come), and then he was sharply interrogated ages after Historia would be whisked away.

It was hateful and miserable and produced nothing worth anything. Maybe some of the MPs didn't believe him still... which is why he's still reeling in surprise that he would receive approval to take his sessions with Historia in the palace and under her discretion.

Theyd only met a few times back in the Military headquarters... but at least each time had been punctual.

After another long minute of sitting in silence, the clock tick-tocking away, his eyes get caught in the careful loops and twists of the intricate doily sitting innocently on the table ahead of him. The way the light hits the fabric makes it shimmer. It’s a shiny material that he’s never seen before and therefore has no name to call it aside from a simple; _pretty._ Perhaps, if Eren were anyone else he’d wonder about the worth, the hands that made it and probably consider its simple beauty for what it is. He isn’t though. All he can think is that it’s just another passing distraction, a piece of the background that’s different from all other backgrounds that have passed him by.

He only knows it’s called a doily because he heard one of the palace maids mention it to another as they hurried out of the waiting room where the Queen told them to guide him to, leave him, and say nothing else. He doesn’t miss the way they forcefully keep their eyes off of him, or the way the MP that followed close behind stared at him with thinly veiled distrust before standing at his post and the door shut between them.

Eren glances away from the table and up to the fresh bouquet of flowers – other pleasant distractions he hasn’t bothered knowing the names of. For a moment he’s tempted to pluck one off its decorative vase and let his fingers rip into the soft petals to find something to do. He decides to stand up instead and walk towards the nearest window.

It’s a long and tall monstrosity of a thing – the window panes showing the gaudiest of stories through its many twists and figures of the Goddesses of the Walls. Pagan worshipping now that Eren knows of their true origins.

His nose wrinkles and looks somewhere else.

The opposite door in the waiting room finally gives a click before sliding open and Eren turns to face it with some relief, a bit of irritation, but mostly curiosity. In walks another MP and following close behind is the Queen herself. Immediately, her face is a better thing to look at than every other off-putting thing in this room. Her hair is tied in its neat braids around her head, wearing a deep red cloak over her military uniform, the standard look she has whenever they’ve met with the other military leaders. He stiffens, stomach giving the subtlest jump under his skin when her blue eyes land on him. (This is a new reaction, he’s noticed. Only ever really happening since the Coronation and she stood tall, blood red cloak hanging off her shoulders like a promise, eyes forward and looking nothing like the desperate girl he had assumed she was. He tries not to think too much about it, that was long ago... but it makes him feel… strange.)

“Eren,” Historia says, and there’s a startled look over her eyes that makes her glance up to the stony-faced officer ahead of her before looking back at him. She smiles at him, eyes warming up enough to melt the surprise away. “Were you waiting here all this time?”

Eren opens his mouth to respond but pauses at the fierce look the officer gives him, all deep frowns and downturned lips. Eren assumes a sharp stand and salutes before bowing.

“Your Highness.”

When he straightens her smile is strained and she sighs, cheeks a bit reddened with embarrassment. “I really wish you wouldn’t.”

“I doubt I have much say in the matter,” Eren says, gray eyes flashing toward the officer at her side.

“You don’t,” was the officer’s stout response. Historia rolls her eyes and motions to him.

"Anyway... I was told our meetings would start at noon."

"How long have you been waiting?" She asks. Eren doesn't immediately answer, before clearing his throat and throws a glance at the clock.

"Er... not long."

Historia glances at the clock on the mantelpiece. The long hand was almost to the lower half of the clock's face. 

"Ah," Historia says and there's a tense silence before she awkwardly glances at the stony face guard and then back to him.

“Well, alright then, come along.”

She begins to turn in the direction they came from.

Eren arches a brow and after a quick glance at the officer, drops his salute and lets his hands fall to his sides. “Wait, we’re not… not here?”

Historia gives a small huff and shakes her head. “Of course not, this place is stuffy. We’re going to my bed chambers.”

Eren glances again, eyes wider. Bed chambers? Was that allowed? 

The officer keeps glaring at him but makes no move to protest or disagree so he hurries to follow her. Historia’s already walking back out the door and into a private hallways braced by the windows, golden hair catching the light much more brilliantly than those other pretty things back in the waiting room. The hallway is filled with long windows and curtains, a deep red carpet over white marble, footsteps echoing out of synch as he catches up.

It doesn’t take Eren much time at all for him to catch up. Quick as Historia may be in battle, the space it takes his legs to cross and approach her is much wider and he almost smirks a little at that.

“Sorry,” he says, without really meaning to. Historia catches it and glances over her shoulder to look up at him.

“What for?” she slows to a stop and turns more to face him. “Did you change your mind?”

Eren stops close behind. “Oh, no. Not that. I…” he pauses to glance down at his boots. His eyes catch on the difference between his and hers. She’s smaller, boots cleaner. The back of his neck itches with the urge to glance back and see if he’s left a trail of dirt on the carpet for some odd reason. “I wasn’t… sure where to go.”

He looks back up at her, gut wriggling when he notices she’s staring at him. Her eyebrows curl and she leans in toward him. Eren stiffens but doesn’t pull away. “Is something wrong?”

“You’re acting weird,” she says, and her eyes stare up at him, amused yet curious all at once. Stupidly honest. “What’s the matter with you?”

That riles him up and he scowls, “Look, I wasn’t sure how to behave, alright? It’s one thing that we are familiar with one another, but I never thought I’d ever be inside this place, let alone talking to you as the Queen of it.”

“I'm still the same person, Eren," she says, mouth pursing, displeased. "Just because there's a Queen in front of my name now doesn't mean I'm suddenly one of them."

He blinks at that and says nothing, feeling a bit foolish but not eager to admit it. Historia clearly isn't happy at his silence because she sighs and says shortly, amusement all gone as she leans away. “Might as well start getting used to it. And anyway this was your idea.”

“I know,” Eren sighs, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his head. “I just… I wasn’t expecting it okay? This entire place is…”

He trails off and looks at her cloak and glances at yet another gaudy windowpane. He says nothing, not wanting to insult her, instead she snickers without warning.

“Ugly as hell?” she says and it startles a gasp out of him. Historia grins up at him, and that same strange feeling that’s been sneaking up at him every time he sees her comes back with a vengeance. It makes his neck feel itchy. “Never thought the great Hope of Humanity was so sensitive to over expensive candelabras.”

He's not entirely sure he prefers her teasing him over being annoyed at him. Eren gives her his best-unamused expression but it falls apart when she giggles again.

“I get it,” she says and she reaches up to slide her fingers into the lapels of his green uniform coat. His eyes widen at that, watching as she plucks dust from his clothing before she turns and continues walking.

“I never had anything like this. Just the stables growing up, the barracks during training,” she says and he has to pick up the pace again behind her until he catches up, eyes curious to see her face. “This place is the furthest from the Survey Corps castle, that’s for sure.”

He realizes then that if anyone is going to suffer the biggest culture shock it’d be her. From stable girl to soldier to Queen of the Walls… the full realization makes him feel even more foolish now that he realizes how dumb he was acting. He shrugs it off and pushes his pace to settle beside her.

“Yeah,” he agrees. "I guess this will take time to get used to."

Historia hums before glancing up at him, he returns her glance side-long.

“On the plus side, my room isn’t nearly as ugly,” she says and there’s a small smile back on her lips, pep in her voice. “It’s still pretty hideous though.”

He manages a small smile back.

“Bet the orphanage is easier to handle,” he says wryly and Historia chuckles.

“Oh, I count the days.”

It’s easier for the smile to broaden then. She makes it easier. He’s glad for it… even if it means facing more nightmares in his memories.

* * *

"...Anything?"

Eren opens his eyes and winces. It'd be easier to deal with being in a room where the ceiling would save him from the faint bubble of memories refusing to burst and spill their secrets, instead the vast assault of color and imagery depicting some false history of the goddesses picks at his patience. 

"No," he says tersely and rolls off of his knees and sits on the marble ground near Historia. "Nothing."

She spares him a moment of silence before she settles on the floor beside him.

"Won't your clothes get dirty?" He asks her, wincing at the bitter tone in his own voice.

"I have maids for that now," she says and there's a slight exasperated tone to her voice as she says that and sighs. "...We've been trying for about an hour now, but we don’t have to rush or anything. Take your time.”

Eren frowns, crossing his legs and letting the cold marble beneath him keep him focused. Instead, he stares at his own hands and wipes his palms on the fabric. All he could focus on was the way her skin felt between his fingertips, soft and warm, calluses juxtaposing the other soft parts of her fingers. Now his hands are sweaty, and his mind remains resolutely empty of the memories he needs to study.

"Eren?"

He ignores her for a moment, trying to think, trying to not focus on how stupid the carpet looks, how ugly the ceiling is, how weird he feels with Historia sitting so close to him. None of that should matter, and yet no matter how hard he tries, his mind refuses to open up. His teeth grind at that. How is it that before he could barely withstand the wave of all those memories drowning him, and now he can barely turn the goddamn tap to get something out of them? Just his luck.

He doesn't realize his hands are clenched into fists on his lap until he feels Historia slide a palm over his knuckles and give his thumb a light squeeze. It's awkward, but it shakes him out of his frustration for a moment. He looks at her and finds her eyes focused on him, concerned. It's unnerving almost, how much he wants to hide from her gaze sometimes. He's never felt that with anyone... and yet here they are.

"Do you want to take a break?"

Eren glances down at her hand over his and tries again, focusing on the sensation, trying to see if this will do it and spark the twist of memories to pour out of him again. It doesn't.

He sighs and pulls his hand away and stands up. 

"This isn't working."

She says nothing, doesn't even stand up to join him. He feels her eyes on him as he shakes his hands at his sides and starts pacing. 

"What normally makes it work?" 

Eren doesn't give a response. He can't. Not when he knows so little as to how to use this to his advantage. It's always just _happened._ With hardly any effort on his end. So why is it that when they need answers the most now, his mind is unable to open up? 

"I don't know," he says, voice low and rough with impatience. "Once you touch me it's supposed to just... _go_. Do it on its own and I just experience it. It's what happened back in the cave. When I was in prison I could barely tell what was happening to me versus what I was witnessing."

"Should I throw you in prison then?"

That throws him off and he pauses to glance at her, she’s staring at him with that same flat curiosity and it takes him a moment to notice the way her mouth is slightly curved. Like a smile, but not quite.

"Are you joking?"

She blinks and smiles a little wider, "Kinda."

Eren isn't sure how to take it so he shrugs it off and continues pacing. Everywhere he looks is hideous. He really wants to get out of this place. He stops, hands going to his hips as he leans and closes his eyes. "Is there any other place we can go?"

"Like where?"

"Anywhere, anywhere at all," He says and turns to face her again. She's still sitting on the floor, staring at him. "Anywhere except here."

"Where would you like to go?" 

It irritates him how much she keeps asking questions instead of offering something for him to latch on to. His brain is already being as difficult as it was. "Could you just... give me a suggestion? I only live in the apartment I was assigned and haven't done much besides being there."

"I've only ever been in the castle and parts of the inner wall." Historia shrugs. "I don't know this place any better than you do."

"Then can we go somewhere we both know? This place is stifling."

She stares at him for a moment before she rises and suddenly starts unclipping the fastening to her cloak around her shoulders. She tosses it onto the immense bedspread before looking at him and nods. "Alright, I know where we can go."

Eren heaves a sigh of relief as she walks toward the nearest table, where a small bell sits undisturbed. Historia picks it up and gives a firm little shake. It tingles brightly and surprisingly loud. The main door to the room (which is on the opposite side from where they entered, Eren notices) clicks and whines as it swings open and a maid walks in before bowing.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Find Gerard and tell him we're leaving... please." 

"Very good, your highness."

Eren blinks as the woman bows again and disappears. He glances back to Historia and she need only nod before she's moving to grab another coat from the large armoire near him. "When she comes back, tell her your sizes and they'll get you some clothes. I don't think we'll be back tonight."

Eren starts to nod before realizing, "Wait, we're leaving right now?"

Historia glances at him and arches a brow, scoffing a little as her lips upturn in an incredulous smile. "Did you not want to get out of here?"

"Yes,” he answers quickly. Historia nods as if it’s enough and Eren feels awkward because of it. “I didn’t mean for that to come out as a demand.”

“It’s not a problem,” she says, thin hands slapping against the canvas of her uniform, dusting herself off. “Apparently, I’m not the kind of royal to dismiss the request of one of my citizens.”

She says it in a way that he thinks would be able to draw a laugh from him, but he still feels embarrassed. “I’m just saying, maybe we should just go to another part of the castle? A garden or something.”

Historia’s nose wrinkles as she fastens the belt of her coat, there’s still that smile on her face. “If you hate it in here, you won’t be able to stand it there. Nothing but statues of the Godesses and King Fritz. Horrendous.”

Eren pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, “Historia… are you sure that this is alright?”

“Oh, which is it?" Historia huffs, arms on her hips and reminding him of how she spoke to the children back at the farm. "Make a proper decision and stick to it, would you? I finally have the means to answer to no one, so why are you suddenly acting like you're afraid to step on some toes for once? It's so unlike you."

“I don’t actually enjoy stepping on people's toes," Eren replies shortly, frowning but there was less fight in his voice. More like, a chagrined resignation. Historia rolls her eyes and fixes him a serious stare.

"Do you want to leave this place?"

 _Yes._ He hesitates for a moment until she arches a brow. He nods at last..

"Good." Historia continues where she left off in rummaging in that immense armoire. "Then let's go."

Eren stares at her, surprised but a surge of gratitude was making him want to reach over and get her attention again. He feels that itchy feeling again. It's starting to irritate him. But he's mostly grateful.

Still... "But don't you have... other queenly… responsibilities... or something?"

Historia gives him a wry laugh as she throws the coat over her shoulders, fastening the tie over her collarbone. "I'm a figure-head, Eren. Whatever ruling responsibilities you'd think I'd have as the Queen belong to the Military. Besides, we're all agreed that helping you recover those memories takes precedence."

"Oh," he says and watches as she adjusts her clothes and starts walking toward the main door just as the door opens and another person, a tall and older man with a well-groomed beard and darker clothes appears.

"Your Majesty, the carriage awaits you at the front. Will we be expecting your return soon?"

"Just a few days," she says and Eren blinks to see her supply orders quickly, and there's something refined about her as she tells the man, Gerard (he assumes), of their plans to travel. "I think it best if we consider this a monthly thing."

"Very good, Ma'am," Gerard bows. "Will you be needing clothes, sir?"

Eren barely manages to nod before he disappears and the maid from earlier rushes in followed by two other women in the exact same uniform. He abruptly swarmed by them, arms lifted and strips of white pressing around his waist - measuring and taking notes so quickly Eren can only give some noise of protest when they spin him around and start measuring his legs. A hand grips to his hip and Eren jumps, voice leaping to his throat in an embarrassingly high note that climbs when he feels fingers press against the lower part of his butt. He yelps when he feels one of them knock her foot against his, forcing his legs to spread some. He hears a soft noise and manages to look over his shoulder in time to see Historia covering her mouth as she shakes.

Just as quickly as they surrounded him the maids disappeared in a flurry of skirts and soft murmurings about fabric and the tailor. 

Eren blinks, a bit windswept before he looks at Historia who's smiling at him, amused.

"You're lucky they didn't strip you where you stand, Eren!" Historia says, feigning awe. "Your scowling face must've been enough to scare them to submission!"

"Ha, ha," Eren straightens and pulls at his own uniform despite not needing to. Despite how quickly they moved and spun him around, pushing his clothes around him to better take his measurements, they didn't forget to straighten his clothes for him. His cheeks burn as he tugs at his lapels, "Was that really necessary?"

"Nope," she says, turning to walk towards the main door where Gerard was waiting patiently. "Come on, the sooner we get to where we need the better, yes?"

Eren huffs and mutters but hurries after her again, this time more glad to put this horribly tacky place behind him.

His mood is marginally less irritated by the time they are ushered into a carriage and the horses are whipped into motion. As they are wheeled out of the main courtyard, Eren gives the castle a final withering glare before turning his attention ahead. Historia is seated next to him, gazing at the window as the carriage takes them to a private lane that leads away from the main roads. It is definitely a smart route to take as fewer people are available to gawk at the Queen's carriage. 

"You know we could have just stopped by my apartment in the city," Eren mentions, somewhat petulant and still a bit sour over the ambush from earlier. He doesn't look away from the passing streets and view of high-end apartments and townspeople. He recognizes the road easy enough to realize that they were only a few streets from where the SC stationed him. "I don't have many clothes anyway so I wouldn't have taken long to pack."

"Most of your clothes are uniforms," he hears her say. He can tell there's a smile on her face and that alone makes him stoutly refuse to look at her. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with trying something new."

"You better not have them give me anything ridiculous," Eren mutters.

Historia makes that same noise. He's beginning to recognize the sound of her stifling laughter. "I would never."

There's enough space between them in the carriage to sit apart from one another so it's a stronger kind of surprise that makes his stomach bounce higher than the regular soft bounces of the carriage when he feels her hand brush his. He breaks his staredown with the scenery to glance down at their hands and sees her pale, smaller one pull away to land on her lap.

"Sorry," she says quietly. Eren looks at her profile, unable to determine anything yet, except that she's sitting primly and facing the passing sights. It's kind of silly if he thinks about it. They've held hands a few times already... but it's different. the few times they have, her hand had fit awkwardly in his, clearly unused to being held for extended periods of time by his larger one. Now that there's a silence between them, Eren appraises his own hands and the way they seem to engulf the space at his side and lap. Compared to hers, he feels gargantuan. Like a titan. 

He thinks of his apartment in the inner city, only every so often does he speak to his friends. While Armin and Mikasa have made it a point to stay with him as long as possible, at the end of the day, his apartment only has one room and enough space for him to be comfortable. Only he had been given the clearance to live so close to the Queen, heavily guarded as he is. He remembers the smile Armin gave him after the guards managed to convince his friends to leave, the way Mikasa scowled at being forced to live elsewhere.

 _“You’ll be alright, won’t you, Eren?”_ Armin had said as Mikasa stood staunchly by the door. Armin kept tugging Mikasa’s sleeve to get her to budge and it took some firm insistence from Eren’s part to get her to sigh and follow after their friend. 

_“Yeah,”_ Eren nodded. _“You’ll be fine too, right?”_

_“We’ll be close by. Captain Levi managed to find us a good place near the main market area. It’s only a twenty-minute walk. Though, if anything happens, the maneuver gear will make quick work of the distance.”_

_“Nothing is going to happen, Armin.”_

It was odd then, how Armin’s smile faded a bit, glancing only at Mikasa once before looking at Eren again, saying, _“We’ll visit often. Tell Historia that we’re as close as we can be in case anything happens.”_

 _“Write us, alright?”_ Mikasa insisted gently, her gaze imploring. _“Don’t do anything on your own.”_

Eren had huffed a hard sigh and all but shut the door in their faces after that. A part of him always feels just the slightest touch of guilt at Mikasa’s hurt expression whenever he pushes her off like that, but it’s sorely needed sometimes. The way she hovers is worse than his mother and that can get overwhelming. _I wish she could trust me to handle myself._

Something passes by the window, something red, that makes Eren blink in its direction. The color spreads and curls, fabric over his eyes into something warm but his blood begins to run… _cold. The vast expanse of the desert sand spread far and wide around him, and his hands ache and throb. He wants to clench his hands but the pain is so fierce and hot, Eren hisses. He looks back down at his hands._

_Bandages cover his hands, bloody stumps jut out awkwardly where his fingers are supposed to be. A chill breeze slams him from behind and he shivers before he twists and turns to see the ocean behind him, the burning ships of Marley’s unsuspecting forces sinking into the depths._

_The Attack Titan wades through meters of ocean water, steam pouring from its maw. The last of their enemies have gone. Eren’s head turns without him meaning to, seeing the last figures of his close friends and allies now turned into mindless Titans disappear into the horizon ahead. Hundreds of miles separate him from death and violence._

_He blinks again and he’s staring at his lap, tears running dry through the cold and the press of dying sunlight on his neck. The Owl stands close by, body emitting heat as he gazes at the vision that takes them into the view towards the desert sands._

_“Find someone behind the walls and love them.”_

_An old hand fills his vision, cradling the gentle curve of a newborn baby’s hand. It clings right back, little fingers and tiny fingernails, tethering life. Precious and deserving of everything in the world._

_“Find a wife, have children, the people of the town. Love everyone you can within the walls.”_

_There’s a windmill, spinning slowly as a flash fills the earth and he sees them. Titans trudging through the hills, hungry eyes focused on the spinning wings and the terrified souls within._

_“If you can’t do that, the cycle will only repeat. The same story, the same mistakes.”_

_He feels himself punch something hard and rough like stone, an unfamiliar name bubbling into his throat, but one that meant everything to him as his body sparks and is swung into the air, flesh and bone bursting all around him._

_“Mikasa and Armin…”_

Ah, I know this.

_“If you want to save them all, Finish the Mission.”_

_“Ne, Eren…”_

A gasp squeezes his throat and he feels something grab his hand, he squeezes back. The phantom pain of missing fingers lingers so closely, he hisses. The swath of red returns. Fabric that flies in the air.

“Eren?”

He exhales shakily, he’s on the floor of the carriage (not back in the pier) and it starts settling more in his mind as he feels Historia’s hand in his. Only this time he recognizes the pale skin quick enough that when he glances up, he expects to see her blue eyes. Blue. It’s less frightening than the red from before.

She’s holding on to him and her face is pale with pain as she looks into his eyes.

“Eren, breathe slow, okay?”

Her voice is tight, the imagery of his mother wringing clothes tight enough that the water pours and pours comes to mind. He feels her shift and his eyes return to where he’s clenching around her knuckles. He releases his grip on her immediately and her relief comes out in a soft whimper as she crumbles by him. 

“Historia!” Eren shakes himself out of his funk as best he can, reeling as he sees her retract her hand within her coat, opposite hand cradling where he’d had a death grip. “I… I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean--”

“It’s okay. You… You’re okay?” She asks and when she looks up at him, there’s a concern in her eyes that relieves him. If she’s busy worrying about him then whatever he did must’ve been worse for him than for her. He nods and feels exhaustion pull his limbs down.

“Y...yeah. I…”

“I know,” she says and she reaches back for him with her opposite hand to grasp one of his wrists. The pressure she gives him is meant to reassure him, it only makes him shudder. _Find a wife… have children._ The words repeat in his head. He looks back up and sees she’s smiling again, small but genuine.

“We’re here.”

He blinks and turns. With her help, they’re able to push Eren back up into his seat. The view of the city is gone, betraying the vast expanse of the farm and the orphanage parallel to the road they are traveling over. Eren stares as the green and faint yellows of the trees around them under the late afternoon sun shimmer and waves at him in the breeze. A prettier sight. One he can put a name to. It feels better.

The confusion ebbs as he returns to his skin and he looks back at his hands. Fingers stretch and curl back as he wills them to, his and no one else’s.

Historia’s grip on his wrist is on his sleeve, careful not to touch him directly since his latest episode. _A family…_

A brief flash of memory blossoms in his mind of his mother smiling coyly, younger, brighter, blushing. Happy. 

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.”

Eren looks up at Historia and she motions back out the window, “Look. There they are.”

Children are running out from around the large house, throwing their arms in the air in ecstatic arcs and hurrying to meet the carriage.

“I never did anything,” Eren says. 

“You can do more today then.”

The carriage turns and the children are easier to see, bright-eyed and happy and looking better fed than Eren can remember. _Love everyone you can within the walls._

He isn’t sure why seeing their faces now suddenly leaves his stomach unsteady, his heart shaken with the message ringing clear in his mind. This isn’t a new memory, on the contrary, it was one Eren explored heavily when he was back in the prison and experiencing the full emotions of Eren Kruger when his father’s scope felt insufficient. But this was like stumbling into a new meaning that gripped his heart and filled him with something that pushed the depths of himself.

 _“All of their lives mean everything, not just your own you know.”_ Eh? This is new. What memory is this? Kruger’s? No…

_He sees the tall figure of a woman with long hair, clothing of a bygone era, and yet her eyes say the same thing._

_“How long are you going to let the world burn itself before you decide to stomp out the flames?”_

Eren huffs long and slow, head falling to the side. The weight of it is fierce and he cannot comprehend what he’s seeing only that it takes him by surprise. “His...to…”

He feels his body fall and hears a soft exclamation. Hands wrap around him, shake him. He can only see the shadowed tilt of wide accusing eyes.

_“Don’t let them burn.”_

“Eren?”

_See you later … Eren._

* * *

"I can't believe you just passed out on her like that."

The mess hall is only busy because of the sudden increase of new recruits. It has been like this for the past few days. More and more Garrison lizards deciding to cut their tails off to join the Survey Corps, as Jean had put it. Eren's irritation towards Jean at this point is commonplace, but his current commentary is hard to glance off since he's still internally squirming with his own embarrassment. 

Jean makes a show of shaking his head in disbelief, but there’s a mean glint of amusement that makes his small smile sharpen, “Oh, actually, wait. I can.”

"Oh yeah, remind me who was the one pissing his pants the first time he saw a Titan?" Eren shoots back, gruffly tearing into a piece of bread and dipping it messily into his potato and carrot stew.

"Don't start," Mikasa immediately responds, eyes flashing between the two of them. For the most part, her interference does its job at curbing their desire to knock heads and fists together. Eren only sneers at Jean as he stuffs his soggy bread into his mouth. "We should just be grateful someone was there to assist you when that happened."

"Did her Highness work you til you dropped?" Jean pokes again, hiding a smirk behind his mug. 

"No," Eren replies, sneering back before leaning on his elbows on the table. "I didn't really do much since there are lot more staff there now. We just... worked on the stables for a bit. We talked. Nothing major happened."

"Not since you had those memories before you got there?" Armin asks.

Eren nods. He doesn't mention how they did try a few times after that. He was only there for less than a week, conversation was a bit stilted at first. At least at the end Historia wasn't pulling away from his hand first anymore. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. 

"One of us should go there with you next time," Mikasa says. "To protect you if you pass out again."

"I'm fine, Mikasa," Eren retorts, a bit quickly. He frowns at the idea. Outside of the failed efforts to get him to remember everything, he actually did enjoy being out there, by himself and with someone who wasn't so pushy about being around him all the time. "I don't need protection."

Mikasa's lips tighten into a line, obviously not very happy about it, but thankfully she doesn't push it. Eren returns to stare at the remains of his meal. He thinks about the farm again, the wide open spaces and inviting little cottage by the great barn where the horses were always eager to be let out for a gallop and graze. He wouldn't mind returning for an extended stay and go for a horse ride. Historia had left the invitation open ended.

"What does it mean?" Armin asks, eyebrows pinched as he stares at the table, pensive. His words bring Eren out of the memory of Historia's blue eyes softening up at him as she bid him farewell and he returned to the city alone. "Was that a memory you've shared before?"

Eren thinks about what he can recall, swallowing. It's difficult to determine what isn't supposed to be familiar versus what feels familiar. Each memory unlocks a deeper understanding that is even hard to verbally describe. Since his first wave of memories, it's grown increasingly difficult to tell where those memories stop and he begins.

“I don’t think so,” Eren says after a moment. “It feels… new… but also not.”

“I don’t believe you’ve mentioned anything about a woman with dark eyes,” Armin says again, this time facing him. “Is it someone Dr. Jaeger knew?”

Eren shakes his head. “No, it feels like someone different... but I honestly can’t tell you from where or how. That’s as far as I got.”

“Did you tell the Brass yet?” Jean asks, and if it isn’t for the disinterested shrug of his face and the way he’s watching a group of new recruits stumbling in excitedly that Eren would almost be convinced he cares. _Almost._

“No,” Eren says, this time the memory that comes up is all his, of the top leaders, eyeing him with tense expressions. “I haven’t been able to since they’ve been in meetings these past few days.”

“It kind of goes without saying,” Connie pipes up this time, mouth full. “There are rumors about them setting the actual date for the Shiganshina Expedition.”

“No way,” Jean shakes his head, flippant. “We haven’t even cleared all the Titans from Wall Maria yet.”

“Yeah but that’s only a matter of time with Eren’s hardening superpower,” Connie says pointedly, quickly scooping a bit of soup from dribbling down his chin with a scrap of bread.

“So soon?” Armin mutters, his eyes go to Eren and the concern is palpable. He doesn’t have to ask. Armin and Mikasa have seen how Eren seems a little weaker since Hange’s experiments became more demanding... always pushing his Titan Hardening for new ideas that seem to be catching them more success these past couple of weeks.

“Good,” Eren says, taking another big bite of bread and making a show to grab his bowl of soup and downing it. “We need to be moving on.”

“Eren,” Mikasa says, tone worried, as he stands and grabs his tray and begins to leave. 

“I’m going to continue to see Historia,” Eren announces, more than eager to leave this conversation behind. “I need to figure out what I’m remembering.”

“...What your _father_ remembered... right?” Armin chimes in, always correcting him, reminding him. Eren throws a final look over his shoulder and sees the apprehension only Armin would give him, now more than ever. Only he would really understand the plaguing force of memories that aren’t his. The importance of drawing a line in the sand. 

Eren says nothing. It’s not the same.

He turns and leaves without another word.


End file.
